


if I asked, you'd scorch me, wouldn't you?

by survivalinstinctvalkyria



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Big tired but I love them, M/M, but also fluffy don't worry, kind of angsty ;;, my keichis and I are unstoppable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 10:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/survivalinstinctvalkyria
Summary: For as long as he can remember, Keito has been reaching out to Eichi. Reaching out to an overbearing, blinding light, an angel’s wings that spin the heavens in a wind of silver.Even though it's hopeless, Keito keeps chasing it, wishing for it to scorch him, and meld the two of them together.





	if I asked, you'd scorch me, wouldn't you?

**Author's Note:**

> I made a Twitter! It's BIGSMlLE (Minako's image song!) Alicia taught me a trick for making usernames where you type in all caps and make one of the I's a lowercase l, so that's why it looks weird.
> 
> Uhh, I love keichi and I've been writer's blocked for a while but I returned for them
> 
> I'm posting this at five am on a school night because I know how to take care of myself

For as long as he can remember, Keito has been reaching out to Eichi. Reaching out to an overbearing, blinding light, an angel’s wings that spin the heavens in a wind of silver.

Even though it's hopeless, Keito keeps chasing it, wishing for it to scorch him, and meld the two of them together.

* * *

 

Each and every beat of Eichi's heart is given a voice—the melancholic resounding of a _beep_ —and a visible presence—the sharp rise of the green line on the heart rate monitor, the abrupt shift in Keito's heart twisted around by it—of its own.

It doesn't look like Eichi is going to wake up anytime soon, eyes veiled by his blonde eyelashes, so Keito silently stares at him. It's like his heart is a ship drifting across the ocean that lies over Eichi's chest—slowly rising and falling—drifting in a calm before the storm, waiting for the turbulent waves that will follow when coughs wrack through Eichi's frail body.

But it hasn't started raining yet.

With nothing better to do, Keito reaches into his bag to pull out a pad of paper and a pencil. Flipping to the first clean page he finds, his gaze skims over countless sketches of Eichi, some of him in his idol outfits, others portraying him as an angel. Today, though, he doesn't feel the need to add embellishment. There's no reason, not when every bone and breath of Eichi's is lined in gold and painted with bright hues of blue and yellow, spiraling into the air to become the sky, and the sun.

The soft curve of Eichi's profile is the first thing he puts to the page, the round curve of his nose, perfectly proportional to his chin, leading to a jaw, up to his ear, half covered by Eichi's blonde locks of hair. Eichi's neck leads down to his collarbone, and that's where the page ends. Next comes the facial details, Eichi's nostrils, his lips—soft, like every other part of him—and shut eyes, long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks.

Lifting his eyes from the page, Keito's gaze wafts over Eichi's profile once more, as if his heavenly aura is being devoured by the suffocating _blankness_ around them, and he can't let his sight leave Eichi in fear of never being able to taste it again.

Then, he looks back down, and sketches out Eichi's hair. Splayed out over his forehead, and falling behind his ears, it holds a certain childishness to it, even though it's hue of gold demands elegance. Maybe that's just the way Eichi is, a childish rebirth of a god.

The rustle of sheets, a quiet groan, and the slight change of pace of the heart rate monitor draws Keito's attention from his sketchbook. The sapphire of his eyes peeks out beneath his eyelashes as he blinks languidly, still drifting between the dream world and reality, not yet aware that his presence is mingling with another person's.

“You're awake.” Keito breaks through the tranquility with only two words, but it's enough to draw Eichi's attention.

The blonde blinks a few more times, before turning his head to face Keito, blonde strands of hair falling into his face.

“Good morning,” he chirps quietly.

“More like 'good evening’, actually; it's already eight,” Keito corrects, leaning over to brush Eichi's bangs back in place.

“You need to be in bed in an hour, don't you? And yet you're here.” Eichi's tone is layered with curiosity, amusement, and another emotion Keito can't quite pinpoint, but he doesn’t think further on it.

“I guess I lost track of time, then. I'll be making my leave now, anyway. Make sure to eat all of your food.” As Keito speaks, he begins to stow his art supplies into his bag, not caring for whatever Eichi might say in reply.

Eichi, having evidently ignored everything Keito had said, instead reaches his hand out slightly to halt Keito's movements. “Can I see what you drew?”

“It’s nothing, really,” Keito tells him, but he still hands it over.

Eichi's expression is unreadable as he surveys the drawing. A knot forms in Keito's throat as he waits for Eichi's verdict, for the only opinion that has ever mattered to him.

“It's pretty,” Eichi says with a thin-lipped smile, and Keito knows there's something else, something much less pleasant meant to follow, “but I'm not sure what's so interesting about me sleeping.”

“Things like this can be interesting, too. Being able to see someone who seems outworldly at a moment of peace is always intriguing.”

Eichi is silent for a moment, before he speaks up abruptly.

“But I look weak, don't I?”

Keito wants to object his words, to comfort him, to say something— _anything—_ that will tell Eichi that no, he's not weak: he's a diamond in Keito's eyes.

Words fail him, betray him in a way they never seem to do during his lectures, so he silently takes his sketchbook back from Eichi.

* * *

 

For as long as he can remember, Keito has been reaching out to Eichi. Reaching out to an overbearing, blinding light, an angel’s wings that spin the heavens in a wind of silver.

When his fingertips brush against it, it moves on ahead, and his skin is tinted by a shadow.

* * *

 

 _Something is wrong,_ Keito thinks as he rushes down the hall. He passes classmates, underclassmen, even some spectators that shouldn't be here, but none of that matters right now. _Fine_ should already be performing, and yet there's been an unexplained delay.

Pushing past the crowd of people around the door, he makes his way over to _fine's_ dressing room. Three of them are crowded around one of the chairs, and Keito comes to a conclusion on what happened with lightning speed.

“Eichi!” he barks out, but only the three crowded around him turn to look. Both Tori and Wataru look outwardly alarmed, tears forming in the corners of the former’s eyes, and the latter’s ever-present smile faded down to a straight line. Yuzuru still maintains his calm persona, but his brows are skewed slightly, and Keito knows something is wrong. “Eichi!” he calls again, but receives no response.

“Vice President-sama,” Yuzuru speaks, “please, talk to him. No matter what we say, he remains stubborn, and refuses to have the live called off. Maybe you'll be able to speak some sense into him.” He takes Tori’s hand in his, and pulls the younger boy out of the room, Wataru following behind. Keito can't even bring himself to be mad when Wataru pats his shoulder on the way out.

He steps closer, kneeling at Eichi's side, placing a hand on Eichi's shoulder to urge the blonde to look at him. Eichi's head only turns slightly, but Keito can still see the blood caked around his lips.

“There's no way you're performing like this.”

“I don't care.”

Eichi's straightforwardness surprises Keito, who blinks twice before registering his words.

“Well, I do,” Keito starts, “and so does your unit, and all of the people out there, too. You're being selfish by not taking better care of yourself. Your health is more important than a single live show.”

“It's always _take better care of yourself_ this and _your health matters most_ that with you, isn't it, Keito?” Eichi spits out abruptly. Eyes trained on Keito, staring daggers into him, laced with a venom that can only be traced back to rage.

“I—what?” Keito stumbles over his words in surprise. Usually, Eichi's rage is concealed behind threatening smile and backhanded deals; rarely does he let anything of the same nature as _rage_ show on his face. For Eichi to act like this, something must be terribly wrong.

“Don't play dumb. You're always coddling me like I'm a child, like I'm incapable of doing anything by myself. Is that what you think of me?” As his voice rises, it trembles, his gaze absolutely livid as he leans back to face Keito properly. “Stop it, just stop! I'm not some fragile piece of glass! I train day and night just the same as everyone else, and yet the moment my health betrays me in the slightest, I'm whisked away like some sort of damsel in distress! I hate it!” His voice cracks, but he doesn't stop, and for the first time, Keito feels truly scared to be in Eichi's presence. “Shouldn't you get that by now!? You're always saying that we share the same dream, and yet you still insist that I'm too weak to reach it! I don't care what you say, I'm going on that stage! Even if I end up dying, at least I'll die happily! …If you can't respect that, then I don't want you watching over me.”

Keito feels the sensation of a free fall. Perhaps, he's always been in this sort of free fall, paying too much attention, giving to much care, to Eichi, and hoping that his parachute will catch him, that Eichi will realize that it was all for the best. But his parachute fails, and he's left falling, without hope, and knowing that no angel will come to save him.

“Eichi, please.”

With a shake of his head, Eichi dismisses Keito. Leaning over the counter, he takes a tissue wiping away the blood from his lips.

“I'm going to perform; watch me,” he demands, and Keito knows he can't refuse him. “Watch me, and let me prove to you that I'm not weak. After that, I don't care anymore—you're free to leave me behind.”

Pushing his chair back, Eichi stands, his form growing taller, stronger, like an angel spreading its wings. Without saying another word, he turns and walks past Keito towards his unit mates.

Keito doesn't lift his head from his hands to watch the live, peering up at the TV through his  fingertips. Even from here, he's sure that there's some blood in the corner of Eichi's lip.

But he knows he won't be able to wipe it away for him.

* * *

 

For as long as he can remember, Keito has been reaching out to Eichi. Reaching out to an overbearing, blinding light, an angel’s wings that spin the heavens in a wind of silver.

But those wings keep flying further on ahead, and before Keito knows it, his world is shrouded in darkness, with only faint recollections of Eichi's voice to comfort him.

* * *

 

After the live, they aren't on speaking terms.

Two weeks go by, the two of them not paying each other any mind, as if the other had simply vanished without a trace.

Well, that probably isn't the right way to describe Keito. In fact, the more time he spends away from Eichi, the more he finds his gaze following the blonde, eying him during class and student council meetings. His sketchbook grows to be a more common fixture in his grasp, new drawing of Eichi springing to life each day.

In every drawing, Eichi is always strong, angelic, graceful—never weak. Even when blood is pouring out his wounds, his eyes glow brightly, never lose that fierceness, that determination that made Keito fall in love with him.

It hurts—it hurts more than anything. It hurts to watch Eichi from afar and feel his heart grow heavy with regret for how had waited until the distance between them grew larger than that if the sea to acknowledge those feelings.

One night, they're the only two left in the student council room, both stubbornly refusing to take a break. The silence lay between them stiffly, and even if Keito keeps giving Eichi an occasional glance, their eyes never meet.

Without a word, Keito gets up excusing himself to go to the restroom. Once he's done with his business and done washing his hands, he eyes his reflection in the mirror.

Underneath his eyes it's black, almost sickly looking. Running a hand through his hair, he wonders if he's the only one stupid enough to let a boy who hates him dominate his thoughts like that. Heaving a sigh, he adjusts his glasses and begins to walk back to the student council room.

The first thing he notices is that Eichi isn't in his own seat. He's in _his_ seat, Keito's, the seat of the only person he has ever outwardly expressed rage towards. In front of him, Keito's sketchbook is opened, and his eyes are trained on the sketches. He must not register Keito's footsteps, because his gaze doesn't leave the sketchbook. Amazement and wonder play out on his face for Keito to observe in full, for him to admire the way that Eichi's eyes seem bluer, more radiant, more blessed than he can remember. He's missed Eichi's eyes.

He's missed that look that Eichi would always where whenever he got to see one of Keito's drawings, an almost childlike wonder. He's missed Eichi's gentle teasing, his determination, those times when he would silently offer Keito tea after a long day of work.

He's missed Eichi.

Once Eichi flips past the final drawing, his gaze shifts up naturally, and only then does he realize that Keito has caught him red handed.

His eyes widen, and he leans away from Keito with a start in surprise, stammering over his words.

“I—How long—It—I mean—”

“It's alright, Eichi,” Keito interrupts. Maybe it wasn't fair of him to use Eichi's name, but in the moment, he doesn't regret it. “I probably shouldn't be drawing you without your permission, anyway.”

Eichi shakes his head slightly. “It's… fine. I'm not mad or anything.”

 _I'm not mad or anything_.

The words play over in Keito's head like a mantra. _Not mad or anything, huh,_ he thinks bitterly.

But even so, his heart still aches with guilt. What right does he have to patronize Eichi?

“I'm sorry,” slips past his lips before he realizes.

“Why? I just told you, I'm not mad.”

“Not that. Our argument before, I should've at least apologized. You don't need to forgive me, I just wanted to say it.”

He can't bring himself to look at Eichi, gaze shifting around the room frantically.

“Keito, look at me,” Eichi starts softly. When Keito looks at him, he sees that Eichi is standing, leaning over the desk to look Keito in the eye. “Yes, like that. I need to say sorry as well, don't I? I can't say that I take back all of those things I said, but I'd ought to apologise. You've always been taking care of me, it wasn't right for me to just throw you away like that. I'm sorry, Keito.”

Hearing Eichi's voice like this, kind of shy, but resolute, isn't good for Keito's heart, and he can't control himself when he reaches for Eichi's hand, grasping it in his own, before bringing it to his lips.

“It's alright, Eichi,” he whispers against the blonde’s fingers.

Eichi tenses in his grasp, but doesn't pull away, instead, moving his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Is that a love confession?”

Keito feels his ears burn, but still answers.

“Maybe.”

Eichi cracks a small smile.

“Then I _maybe_ love you, too.”

* * *

 

For as long as he can remember, Keito has been reaching out to Eichi. Reaching out to an overbearing, blinding light, an angel’s wings that spin the heavens in a wind of silver.

When he thinks all hope is lost for him, warmth floods through his senses, the sun's undeniable heat, and he looks up to see Eichi smiling down on him.

* * *

 

“Seriously, Eichi, why even bother coming if you're just going to sleep?”

Eichi and Keito are alone in the student council room, Eichi's arms folded in front of him, cradling his head.

“I meant to do work, but I got tired hearing you ramble on and on,” Eichi tells him with a hushed chuckle.

“Well, thanks,” Keito replies sarcastically.

“Don't be mad. Actually, it's soothing, like listening to a lullaby.”

This gets a hum from Keito, who shifts his gaze from the paperwork to Eichi's form. Eichi returns his gaze, softly gazing up at him through eyes that look like the sky itself, irises veiled slightly but his lashes.

“Just this once,” Keito sighs, bringing his hand to stroke Eichi's head. Tilting his head to nuzzle his cheek into Keito's open palm, Eichi practically purrs in thanks, and Keito's heart melts.

“Well, you want me to keep talking, right? Hmm, your hair is softer than it was before, isn't it? A bit longer, too, are you planning on cutting it? What else… you're singing has improved. Your voice is very strong, Eichi, it's no wonder you're the top student. It's unfair how charming you are, you know? Especially with your eyes, it's like they see right through me; I can't say no to you.”

He must be falling asleep himself, because he drones on, mumbling out nonsensical praises for the blonde resting besides him, hand never leaving his cheek. Eichi hums quietly, enjoying the fondness of the moment.

For once, Keito doesn't think he minds it.

“You can be cute, too. Like this, it's really sweet. And you're so soft—everything about you is perfect. I love you, Eichi.”

After a moment with no reply, he glances down at Eichi, noticing the way his abdomen drifts up and down like waves. His eyes are shut, lips parted slightly, like some sort of a doll, and Keito feels himself fall in love again.

 _Just this once,_ Keito reminds himself, _just this once, it's okay._

Lifting his hand from Eichi's cheek, he brushes a lock of blonde hair behind the president's ear, and leans down to press his lips against his cheek, a sweet kiss that only he'll remember.

Bringing his hand down, he wraps his arm around Eichi's waist, shifting his chair closer, so that he can lean against Eichi as he feels himself drift asleep, as well.

When he wakes, he’ll be sure to kiss Eichi properly.

* * *

 

For as long as he can remember, Keito has been reaching out to Eichi. Reaching out to an overbearing, blinding light, an angel’s wings that spin the heavens in a wind of silver.

Keito takes Eichi's hands in his own, letting Eichi's wings carry them off to a world where they can finally be at peace. With this radiant light shining all around him, he thinks he's finally found the key to happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had that last scene on my mind for a while, I can't focus in class anymore ;; luckily I get straight A's in everything except p.e., which grades on effort and participation ;;


End file.
